


Things Get Broken

by nfna118



Series: Filling the Gaps [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Violence, Homophobic Language, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nfna118/pseuds/nfna118
Summary: Tuesday, November 23, 1976.An argument breaks out at the Byers's on Thanksgiving. Mike helps to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Will Byers & Mike Wheeler, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Series: Filling the Gaps [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723810
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	Things Get Broken

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot in a canon-compliant Byler universe. Updates to come approximately whenever I feel like it!

**Tuesday, November 23, 1976**

It was a Thanksgiving-themed day in Mrs. Palmer’s classroom. _Well, a Thanksgiving-themed week_ , thought Will, _if Monday and Tuesday count as a week._ They’d talked about their family traditions. A lot of people talked about how all their relatives came over – Mike went on and on about his Nana and Papa and annoying cousins. Will was a little embarrassed that they didn’t have any family who came over – his mom’s relatives lived far away so he didn’t see them that often, and his dad’s relatives – just didn’t come, for some reason that no one had ever explained to Will. All he could think about for traditions is that the four of them all sat down for a meal together – which was unusual, to be fair – and they used the fancy dishes.

They’d gotten worksheets with an outline of a plate and they drew what they ate for Thanksgiving. Mike’s was overflowing with turkey and mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce and absolutely _no_ green beans (although, Will only knew what Mike was drawing because he had told him). Will spent a while drawing the fancy china patterns on the plate before he added a small helping of turkey and pumpkin bread and applesauce. Mashed potatoes felt funny in his mouth. (And he was lucky, he supposed, that his mom didn’t force him to eat green beans.)

They’d traced their hands in art class and turned them into turkeys. Will had spent a long time trying to fit in all the colors he saw on the turkeys his daddy brought home. He knew they were all _there_ , but how he put them together wasn’t right – it ended up looking more like a toucan than a turkey, if he was being honest. Mike’s was very – brown, but Mike seemed really proud of it (he _was_ getting better at coloring inside the lines) and Mike was happy so, well, Will was happy too.

And now they had just come back from music class (where they’d sung stupid Thanksgiving songs, big surprise) and the final activity of the day was to draw something they were thankful for. Will figured most people would draw their families. He was sure Mike would draw his family – _well, maybe not Nancy_ , he giggled quietly to himself, causing Mike to give him a funny look – but his mommy was so nice and made the _best_ cookies. And Will loved his family too, of course – his mommy was so nice and Jonathan was so cool – but there was something – someone – he was even more thankful for this year.

“Alright, boys and girls, let’s form a circle and share what we’re thankful for! Make sure you bring your paper and walk slowly and quietly over to the circle area.” Will’s ears reddened. He didn’t know they were going to have to _share_ with the class. He clutched his paper tight to his chest, hoping Mike wouldn’t think he was too weird. He settled down on Mike’s right, their spots in the circle well-defined by this point of the year.

“Let’s start with Jason, and we’ll go clockwise,” said Mrs. Palmer, tracing the order out with her finger. Most of the answers were fairly predictable – “my family”, “my nana and papa”, “my cat”, “my family”, with a couple oddballs thrown in – “the sun”, “dinosaurs”, “squirrels” – and then it was Will’s turn.

“I’m thankful for…” he began, then paused, glancing down at his paper. Everyone was _staring_ at him. He _still_ hadn’t gotten used to that. Mike subtly bumped knees with him, and that got him unstuck. “I’m thankful for Mike,” he finished quickly and then blushed. But Mrs. Palmer just nodded and everyone else had just moved on to staring at Mike (except Jason and Brian, who were fooling around like usual).

Mike, however, relished the attention. “And I’m thankful,” he began, revealing his drawing with a dramatic flourish. Will caught a glimpse of what he thought was a swing set before Mike finished, “for Will!” and flung his arms clumsily around him. Will almost tipped over as the rest of the class giggled, and then it was Lisa’s turn and the class had moved on. Will shot Mike a glance and was met with a dazzling smile in return. He couldn’t help but smile back.

Recess was the last part of the day. The boys bundled up – it was around freezing and the sun hadn’t shown in a few days. Mike got lost in his coat for a few moments, but emerged unscathed like always.

Once they were outside, Will gravitated towards the swings, vaguely nodding along to whatever Mike was saying.

“Will?” Mike frowned at him.

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Will, you _love_ talking about X-Men. What are you thinking about?”

Will looked down at the ground. “Can we talk on the swings?” He _did_ want to talk, but he didn’t really want to have Mike _looking_ at him.

“Yeah, sure, of course.” Mike still looked worried, his eyebrows up in the fringe of his hair.

Will sat down first and started slowly swinging back and forth, his legs still too short, to drag on the ground. Mike joined in next to him. The silence grew between them for a few seconds, but Mike never was very good at silence.

“So… what’s wrong?”

Will sighed. “You’re excited for Thanksgiving, right?”

“Yeah!” Mike smiled. “I get to see Nana and Papa and Mommy makes this really yummy turkey and –”

“Well, I’m not,” interrupted Will.

Mike frowned. “Why not? We have five days off of school!”

“…Yeah. I know.” Will _really_ wished he could scuff his feet now. This time, Mike actually let the silence drag on while Will thought about what he wanted to say. “I… like being at school more than being at home, sometimes.”

“But Jonathan’s really cool! He actually pays attention to you and does stuff with you. Nancy’s just a butt.”

“Yeah…” Will couldn’t keep from smiling a little bit.

“And your mommy’s so nice! She gives the bestest hugs.”

Will smiled again. “Yeah, she does.”

The silence grew thick between them.

“Is your daddy –”

“Yeah.” Will swiped clumsily at his face with his mittens, trying to wipe away his stupid tears. _If Daddy saw…_

“Will?”

Will shook his head. The tears just wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t let Mike see. But then Mike was somehow right in front of him and grabbing his hands and lightly tugging him off the swing and before he knew it he found himself sitting next to Mike on a bench. He felt Mike rubbing slow circles on his back, which – definitely helped. After a minute or so, he calmed down enough to worry again that some of the meaner boys would see them. Mike felt him tense up again, and motioned to the recess aide just the right distance away – close enough to deter any bullies but not close enough to overhear. He relaxed again. Of course Mike had thought of that. He sighed. “I –” he cleared his throat – “I’m just – scared.”

“Of what?”

Will just shook his head. Mike kept rubbing circles. He knew when he was upset his mommy did that and it helped him calm down.

“Will, you know you can tell me anything,” Mike whispered back.

“He’s been really angry this week. Angrier than usual. I’ve been hanging out with Jonathan in his room most of the time. He plays music so we don’t hear the yelling as much…” He trailed off and sniffled. He reached up to wipe away the tears again, but Mike’s mitten got there first. Will bit his lip as Mike’s thumb brushed his cheek. He shivered. Mike’s eyes were so close to his – too close. He glanced away. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“Then he’s _stupid_.” Will glanced up again, and Mike’s eyes were bright and fierce. Will made a small noise of protest, but Mike barreled on. “No, Will, I mean it. If he can’t see how amazing and smart and artistic and awesome you are… Then he’s stupid.”

Will buried his head in Mike’s chest and Mike wrapped his arms tight around him. “It’s only five days,” Mike whispered. “Five short days. And you can call me, yeah? You can call me? Every day?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Come on, you wanna go back on the swings?” Mike asked.

Will gave Mike a firm squeeze before he stood up. “Yeah, sure.”

They swung until the whistle blew for the end of recess. Mike kept looking over and making funny faces, and Will couldn’t help but giggle. He was in a much better mood by the time they walked inside.

“Hey,” said Mike as they grabbed their backpacks from their cubbies.

“Yeah?”

Mike shoved a piece of paper into Will’s hands. “Here,” he said, “I want you to have it.” Will turned it over to find Mike’s drawing from earlier, where he said he was thankful for Will. “No matter what happens,” Mike said, “Just so you don’t forget.”

Will bit his lip hard to keep the tears at bay. He nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”

Mike flung his arms around Will, and Will had to hastily make sure the drawing didn’t get wrinkled. “I’m gonna miss you, Byers,” he murmured. “Call soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Will replied. “I’ll miss you too.”

* * *

**Wednesday, November 24, 1976**

Most of the day had been fine. Daddy was gone before he woke up – he still had to work the day before Thanksgiving, even though Will and Jonathan didn’t have to go to school. For once, he got to wake up on his own, without Mommy opening the curtains and gently shaking him up. When he finally did open his eyes, the sun shining through his window, he momentarily panicked that he’d overslept, before he remembered. Thanksgiving break.

He padded down the hall in his pajamas, finding Jonathan and Mommy at the kitchen table. Will wrinkled his nose at the bitter smell of coffee. “I saved some eggs for you sleepyhead,” said Joyce, standing up and ruffling his hair as he sat down. He sighed in contentment. He always loved it when she did that.

He went outside with Jonathan, where they played hide-and-seek for an hour or so. Maybe it was because he was smaller and could fit in more places, but Jonathan always took much longer to find him than he took to find Jonathan. He was good at some things, he thought, even if they weren’t the things Daddy needed him to be good at. By the time they came in, it was time for lunch, and then Will remembered that he hadn’t called Mike yet. He went to his room to grab Mike’s drawing from his backpack so he could look at it while he talked to Mike.

“I’m gonna call Will,” he told his mom when he returned to the kitchen.

“Do you know his number, sweetie?”

“Yeah, of course,” Will replied, already dialing.

The phone picked up on the third ring. “Wheeler residence, this is Karen.”

“Oh. Uh – hi, Mrs Wheeler,” Will stuttered. “Can I talk to Mike? This is Will.”

“Oh, hello, Will. So good to hear from you. Just wait one moment, would you?” He heard the phone being set down and Mrs. Wheeler calling, “Michael, phone call for you!”, and then Mike skidding around the corner and running into something.

“Will!” he shouted as he picked up the phone, then muttered, “Ow…”

“You okay, Mike?” Will giggled.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Nothing’s bleeding. What about you?”

“I’m good.”

“Yeah?” Will could _hear_ Mike raising his eyebrows in concern.

“Yeah, really. I woke up after Daddy left for the day, so I’ve mostly just been playing with Jonathan.”

“That’s so cool that Jonathan plays with you! Nancy just sits in her room and, I dunno – _reads_ or something. Oh, and sometimes she practices piano, but she’s not very good. I miss when she used to play with me more.”

Will nodded, then remembered Mike couldn’t see him. “Have you asked her?”

“Asked her what?”

“To play with you?”

“No, she’s a girl. Gross.”

“Mike…”

“What?”

Will rolled his eyes. “If you wanna play with her, you need to ask.”

“What would we even do? She doesn’t like comics. Or action figures. Or dinosaurs.”

“What about a puzzle?” suggested Will. He glanced over at the dining room table where they had one almost finished. He supposed they should probably finish it tonight, before they had to clear the table for Thanksgiving tomorrow.

“D’you think Nancy would want to?” Mike sounded – hopeful.

Will shrugged. “I dunno. Only one way to find out, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Will. You’re the best. Anyways, speaking of Nancy, she wants the phone, so I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow night, okay? And you can call earlier if you want. Obviously.”

“Okayyy. Bye, Mike!”

“Bye, Will.”

Will heard the click of the phone as Mike hung up, then wandered over to the dining room to work on the puzzle. He dropped Mike’s picture on top of a cabinet and got lost in the puzzle. Jonathan wandered over at some point and helped silently. Joyce was in the kitchen, making dinner.

They were almost done with the puzzle when they heard Daddy’s car coming up the driveway. Will glanced up nervously when he heard the car door slam and felt his whole body tense as the front door slammed open. Daddy was _not_ in a good mood.

“I’m home,” he called out, hanging his coat up. “What’s for dinner, Joyce?”

“I’m cooking some chicken and rice,” she replied evenly. “It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” Lonnie’s voice had gone dangerously low as he walked to the kitchen. “Twenty minutes?” Louder now. “What does a man have to do around here to earn the privilege of sitting down to a goddamn hot meal when he gets home after a long day of work?”

Jonathan caught Will’s eyes, startling him out of the position he’d frozen in. He tilted his head, eyes serious, and Will got the message. They stood up quietly, not bothering to push their chairs in, and snuck around the kitchen and made it to Jonathan’s room without being noticed.

“Hey, bud,” said Jonathan once the door was shut. “I’ve been meaning to show you this new album I got this weekend, if you want?”

“Yeah!” Will smiled. Jonathan always seemed a little hesitant to share his music, but Will always loved whatever Jonathan was willing to share with him.

Jonathan pulled a record down off his shelf. “It’s just a single… I haven’t heard of this group before, but I think they’re like Norwegian or something?” He handed the sleeve to Will as he got the record set.

Will stared in fascination. He always loved the artwork on the covers of Jonathan’s music. Sometimes it was photographs, like this one, and sometimes it was _real_ art – maybe he could design record covers someday! He tried to tune out Daddy’s shouting as he stared at the four people in white hats. The one with a beard was definitely a guy, but he wasn’t quite sure about the other three, and he wondered why one of the “B”s was backwards.

And then Jonathan started the record, and all else was forgotten. There was a short piano gliss, and then he started bobbing his head to the drum beat. “What’s this called again?” he asked, looking over at Jonathan.

“ _Dancing Queen_. What do you think?”

“I like it!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Will giggled as Jonathan pretended to dance along.

“Come on, Willy-bean, you can’t let me be the only one dancing!”

Will rolled his eyes, but got to his feet and joined in.

They re-started the record a few times before they heard a timid knock on the door. “Boys?” called Joyce, “Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay, Mom,” replied Jonathan. “We’ll be right there!” He put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “You gonna be okay, bud?”

Will took a deep breath and then nodded.

“Okay. You know I think you’re amazing, right?”

Will sniffed and threw his arms around Jonathan. Jonathan wrapped his arms around Will too for a moment, then pulled away. “Let’s go wash our hands, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Will squeaked out.

* * *

Dinner was only tolerable because Jonathan was there. Daddy spent most of the time complaining about things – his co-workers, the weather, whoever was in charge of his current project, the government, the electric company… Mommy mostly just nodded and agreed, but her eyes kept darting around, and she startled every time Daddy made a sudden movement. Will just sat there and tried to eat as quickly as possible (which was hard, when his stomach felt like it didn’t want to keep any food down), which left it up to Jonathan to fill in any gaps in the conversation.

After dinner, Will thought about calling Mike again, but it was getting late, and Daddy was still at the table, drinking beer. He’d been offered a sip once, but it tasted really gross. Sometimes it calmed Daddy down, but sometimes it just made him angrier… Will hadn’t figured out how to distinguish between the two, so he figured it was just best to stay away. He’d call Mike tomorrow. It wasn’t a big deal.

* * *

**Thursday, November 25, 1976**

Will woke up early the next morning. He listened at his door, but no one else was up yet, so he found a book, a piece of paper, and some crayons and laid down on the floor to draw. He hated feeling like this in his own house. He needed his own place, where no one else was allowed, unless he let them in. As he thought, his hand started drawing almost of its own accord. It looked kinda like the tents they went camping in, but made of wood, because it had to last forever – and trees lasted forever, right? He started drawing some of the trees in the surrounding forest, but was quickly interrupted by a quick rapping on his door – Mommy.

Sure enough, Joyce opened the door and looked a little surprised to see him lying on the ground instead of fast asleep, but she recovered quickly. “You want some breakfast, sweetie?” she asked. “I think we’re the only ones awake.”

“Yeah!” said Will excitedly, jumping up. “Can we make pancakes?”

Joyce smiled. “Hmm, maybe. Let’s go see if we have all the ingredients. If we do, do you want to be my little helper?”

“Yeah!” Will smiled. Maybe today wouldn’t be too bad after all.

* * *

Mommy had been in the kitchen most of the day, and the whole house smelled good. Will _did_ look forward to the times they had fancy meals together like this and acted like a family.

He smiled as he walked down the hall and saw the dining room table laid out in all its glory. Mommy had put a tablecloth over it, and there were candles, and he was just tall enough this year to see the fancy plates without having to stand on his tippy-toes. He saw the freshly-baked pumpkin bread and the steaming bowls of mashed potatoes and gravy, and in the center of it all, the turkey Daddy had shot last weekend. Everything felt familiar and right. They’d have dinner and watch a TV show together, like they did every year. It wasn’t much, but it was special because it was _his_ family.

Once they were all there, Daddy took Jonathan’s and Mommy’s hands, and then they grabbed his, although he had to stretch a little bit. “Dear Lord,” Daddy started, “Thank You for Your blessings, for my beautiful wife and beautiful boys, for the roof over our heads, and for the food we have before us. God bless this family, and God bless our great country, may He live forever, amen.”

“Amen,” they all chorused, although Will _still_ didn’t quite understand what it meant.

They passed the food around the table (although Joyce and Jonathan helped Will get food from the big bowls onto his plate). Once they were served, Will dug in with gusto. He wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation, until –

“Can you pass the butter, Dad?” Jonathan asked.

Lonnie grunted as he reached for the butter and then paused as his eyes fell on the cabinet. “What’s this?” he asked absentmindedly as he passed Jonathan the butter.

Will’s shoulders tensed a little. “It’s a paper from school, Daddy.”

“What sort of paper?” Lonnie sounded genuinely interested, so Will kept talking as he went over to look at it.

“We all had to draw something we were thankful for!”

“And you’re thankful for…” Lonnie paused, deciphering the handwriting, “…yourself?” He frowned in confusion.

“No,” Will giggled, “Mike gave that to me. He drew us on the swings, like when we met on the first day of school!”

“Oh?” said Lonnie, “And what did you say you were thankful for?”

Will was too excited that Daddy was interested in what he had to say to notice how his voice and lowered.

“I drew Mike, of course! He’s my best friend.” Will smiled.

“You know, I really don’t like this Wheeler boy,” Lonnie growled as he walked back to the table and slammed Mike’s drawing down on the table. Will flinched, as did Joyce and Jonathan. “I always see him – hugging you when he comes and goes, like some little queer. It’s not right, is what it is.”

“But he’s my best friend, Daddy.” Will was on the verge of tears, but tried to hold them back so Daddy wouldn’t get even more angry. “And you and Mommy and Jonathan all hug me.”

“Because we’re your _family_ ,” spat Lonnie, “And we’re all _normal_. It’s just not _natural_ , and I won’t have this Wheeler boy turn you into any more of a fag than you already are.”

“Lonnie!” Joyce interjected.

“Shut up,” he growled, without even looking at her. His gaze was directed across the table, straight at Will. Will couldn’t seem to look away. “You’re an embarrassment, is what you are,” he said. “I don’t want you seeing Wheeler again, do you understand me?”

Will opened his mouth slowly, but no words came out. He took in a deep, shuddering breath and felt the tears start to roll down his cheeks. He tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere to go but lower in his chair.

Lonnie scoffed. “See what a fucking pansy he is,” he said to no one in particular. “Fucking disgrace.”

“Lonnie!” Joyce shouted this time.

“Joyce?” he snarled, suddenly turning to face her. “Got a problem with how I’m raising my sons? I bet you’re half the problem, always going soft on them…”

“ _Your_ sons?” Joyce shrieked, “ _Your_ sons? Try _our_ sons, Lonnie.” Her voice suddenly softened as she looked down at Will. “Jonathan, take Will to your room.” Jonathan didn’t need to be told twice. He had already scooted his chair back, and practically grabbed Will’s hand and dragged him into the kitchen.

“And yes.” Joyce had turned back to Lonnie. “Yes, I _do_ have a problem with how you’re treating our children.”

“It’s disgusting! Do you want him to grow up to be a fag? He’ll be shot or lynched before he graduates high school. You’ve gotta stomp it out early, Joyce! It’s the only way.”

“Why you –”

By now, they’d made it to Jonathan’s room and closed the door, but that didn’t stop them from hearing the crack of a palm colliding with flesh, or the crash of a plate shattering. At least they couldn’t make out individual words anymore.

As Jonathan let go of his hand to close the door, Will ran over to the corner and half-sat, half-collapsed with his back to the wall. He put his head between his knees and covered his face with his arms, making himself as small as possible.

“Hey,” coaxed Jonathan. If he were being honest with himself, he wished he could do the same thing, but he needed to be strong for Will right now. “Can you look at me?”

Will quickly shook his head back and forth.

“Can I hug you?”

Will shook his head again.

“Can I… sit next to you?”

A pause, then a single nod, up and down.

Jonathan carefully sat down next to Will, making sure to leave a little space between them. Gradually, he inched closer and closer until their shoulders were touching. Will didn’t lean into the touch, but he didn’t lean away either. Jonathan took that as a good sign, and gradually draped his arm around Will’s shoulders. “I’ve got you, Will. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He tried to pull Will a little closer to him, but instead Will fell sideways onto his lap, still sobbing. Jonathan wrapped him in his arms, and finally felt the tears start to dampen his own cheeks.

* * *

About an hour later, Joyce slowly cracked open the door, eyes darting around until she found them in the corner, still in the same position. Will looked as if he had fallen asleep in Jonathan’s lap, but Jonathan’s eyes were open, vacant, staring at nothing. She bit her lip and winced.

“Jonathan,” she whispered. “He’s gone. It’s safe now.”

After a second, he snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at her. “Mom,” he breathed, “What happened to your face?”

Joyce unconsciously shielded the bruise on her face. “Oh, it’s – it’s nothing,” she stuttered. “What matters is that the two of you are safe.”

Jonathan gave her a reproachful look with far more understanding than any nine-year-old should ever have, even as he lightly shook Will awake.

Will opened and closed his mouth a few times as he slowly woke up, then suddenly jolted up to a sitting position. Jonathan kept his arms firmly around him. “We’re safe,” he said in a low voice. “He’s gone.”

“Is he coming back?” Will asked Jonathan in a small voice. Jonathan looked helplessly at Joyce.

“I – I don’t know, honey,” she said. “He’s certainly not coming back tonight.”

Will’s face crumpled, but she couldn’t read his expression because he turned to face Jonathan directly. “Help me?” he asked, very seriously.

“Help you?” asked Jonathan, clearly as confused as she was. “With what?”

Will didn’t answer, instead wriggling out of Jonathan’s grasp and impatiently grabbing Jonathan’s hand and dragging him across the hall to his room.

Joyce watched them go. Will didn’t look at her once. Her heart broke for the second time that day.

* * *

A few minutes later, Will and Jonathan were putting their coats and gloves and hats on. They went out the back door, a piece of paper clutched tightly in Will’s hands.

Jonathan had understood what Will wanted – what Will needed – as soon as he’d shoved the drawing in his face. It was clumsily labelled “Kasl Byers” and while maybe it wouldn’t look exactly like Will’s drawing, they could come pretty damn close.

They loaded up a wheelbarrow with all the firewood they had lying around the shed, and Jonathan made sure to grab some hammers and nails too. He followed Will out into the back woods until he stopped after a few minutes and pointed to a clearing between the trees.

“Here?” asked Jonathan.

Will nodded.

They unloaded all the wood they had brought in silence. “I’m gonna go back to get some more wood,” said Jonathan. “Do you want to come with me, or gather some branches from around here, or?”

Will walked off into the woods and started picking branches up off the ground. Jonathan shrugged. That answered the question.

On his way back with the second wheelbarrow-full, he felt a few drops of water start to sprinkle down from the sky. When he reached the clearing again, he found an impressive pile of sticks and branches, and Will returning with yet another armful. “Hey, buddy,” he called softly. “It’s about to start raining, I think. Wanna go in and we can finish this tomorrow?”

Will froze. He looked down at the ground for a moment, then stared at Jonathan with wild eyes – shattered, broken eyes – and shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Tonight.”

Jonathan pursed his lips, holding back more tears, and nodded. He couldn’t say no to Will in the best of times, and he didn’t think any human being with a shred of empathy could have denied the request – the desperate need – in those eyes.

Jonathan hadn’t ever done this before, but he figured they’d need some sort of sturdy frame. “Here, Will, let’s start nailing some of these branches together, okay?”

Will nodded.

“D – Have you ever used a hammer before?”

Will shrugged.

“Okay, here, come and watch me. Then you can try, okay?”

Will nodded.

“So you hold the nail by the base like this, see? And you just tap the nail lightly until it can stand on its own. Then you move away, so you don’t hurt yourself. Then you can tap harder, so it’ll go through both branches.”

Soon enough, Jonathan had set Will up with his own station, and he returned to his own. He nailed a few more branches together as the rain started to fall more heavily, before he glanced over to check on Will. Will was using the hammer, but didn’t seem able to hit anywhere near the nail sticking out of the wood. He was flailing, just hitting the branch and the ground with as much force as he could.

As Jonathan walked closer to Will, Will looked up at him. His eyes were still intense, but now they were blurry with rain or tears – or both. Jonathan abruptly changed what he was going to say. “Hey, buddy, I could really use someone to help break all these long branches to be the same length for the walls. Do you think you could do that for me? Do you think you could help me out?”

Will didn’t give any indication that he’d heard, but he did put the hammer down and started violently snapping branches apart.

It was slow work, and the rain certainly wasn’t helping. Will breaking the branches to the right length did speed things up a little bit, but not nearly as much as if he’d been able to hammer as well.

Piece by piece, branch by branch, Castle Byers started to take form. Jonathan estimated they were about half done by the time the sun began to set in earnest. When he couldn’t see the nail in front of his face anymore, he finally called out to Will. “Will, it’s too dark. We’re just going to need to finish up tomorrow.”

“No!” shouted Will. “No,” he choked out. “I – can’t – I –” And his body was wracked with sobs again.

“Will,” he pleaded, “We can’t see what we’re doing anymore.”

“Jonathan.”

He sighed. “I’m gonna go get some lights. Will you be okay out here alone for a few minutes?”

Will nodded, appearing to relax, at least a little bit.

Jonathan opened the back door slowly, hoping he could slip in and out of the house unnoticed, but he couldn’t avoid his mom, who was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a mug of something hot.

“Jonathan!” she shouted, standing up. “There you are! Where’s Will? Is he okay? Is he –” Her eyes were darting around wildly.

“Will’s fine, Mom,” sighed Jonathan. “He’s still out there.”

“Out _where_?” She still sounded frantic. “It’s dark and raining and cold and – oh, God.” She collapsed back into her chair.

“I know, I know,” replied Jonathan. “But – he needs this right now. And – I need this right now. It’s too much to be in the house right now, y’know?”

Joyce gave a hollow chuckle that held no mirth.

“Anyways, I just came in here to grab some flashlights.”

“When will you –”

“I don’t know, Mom. I’ll keep an eye on Will. He’ll be safe.”

“Are you sure I can’t –”

“No, Mom. Stay in here. I don’t think Will’s ready to see you yet.”

“But I –”

“I’m just going to grab flashlights and then I’m heading back out,” Jonathan said firmly, brooking no argument.

* * *

**Friday, November 26, 1976**

It had been the longest night of Joyce’s life. The house was _too_ quiet. She jumped every time the wind howled or a tree creaked outside or the lights flickered. She hadn’t seen any lightning or heard any thunder, but maybe the wind was strong enough to be messing with the power lines. At least the electricity stayed on.

The boys had come in sometime after midnight, their flickering flashlights preceding them. They were both soaked to the bone. “Will! Jonathan. We need to get you some dry clothes!” She’d started to stand when she saw Will avert his gaze and Jonathan said, “I’ll take care of it, Mom, go to bed,” tiredly, without emotion. He half-carried, half-dragged Will down the hall, since Will seemed incapable of initiating motion himself.

She had slept in fits and bursts, but never more than an hour or two at a time. Now the clock read 10:09 and the sun was streaming in through the curtains she hadn’t bothered to close last night, and she figured it was probably time to get up and face the world.

She walked down the hall and saw that Will’s door was slightly ajar. She eased the door open to find – no one. Will’s bed didn’t even look slept in. Her pulse immediately started racing. Had he gone out again already? Where was he?

She held her breath as she tapped on Jonathan’s door and, hearing no response, slowly opened it. She let out the breath as she saw both her boys curled up under the covers. Will’s tear-stained face was tucked into Jonathan’s chest, and Jonathan’s arms surrounded him, holding him close.

She slowly backed out of the room and closed the door with the softest click she could manage. She could afford to let them rest for a little while longer.

She thought back to how Will had refused to look at her last night, and how she had no idea if or when Lonnie would be back, and by the time she reached the end of the hall, she knew what she had to do.

Unlike Will, she hadn’t memorized the Wheelers’ phone number, so she dialed it out of the phone book and waited anxiously for someone – anyone – to pick up.

“Wheeler residence, Karen speaking.”

“Karen! Hi. This is Joyce – Joyce Byers.”

“Joyce! Good to hear from you! Is Will feeling any better? Mike said you told him he was feeling under the weather last night.”

She could hear Mike in the background. “Is that Mrs. Byers? Can I talk to Will? Is he feeling better?”

“I – yes, yes, well actually –” she decided on the spur of the moment to trust Karen at least a little bit – “Lonnie and I had a big argument last night, and it – just wasn’t a good time when he called.”

“Oh,” said Karen softly. “Are you – is he – ?”

“What? What’s wrong?” Mike cut in.

“Michael, shush!”

“We’re all fine,” Joyce cut in quickly. “But the boys are pretty shaken up. I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there any chance Will could stay over at your house tonight while I sort things out?”

“Oh, Joyce, of course.” Joyce could hear the pity and concern in her voice. “Do you or – Will’s brother need a place to stay?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” she said, waving her hand, “But – Jonathan does need a place to stay, if it’s not too much trouble? I think Will would like having him there, you know?”

“Absolutely. It’s no trouble at all, really. As I’m sure you’ve heard already, my son will be very excited to have Will sleep over –” a whoop from the background – “And Nancy and Jonathan are in the same class, I think, so at least there will be a familiar face. And I’ll try to explain to Michael that Will might not be feeling the best right now.”

“You’re a godsend, Karen,” replied Joyce. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Oh, please – there’s no need to think like that. We’ve got to look out for each other, or who else will? When should we be expecting you?”

“Uhh…” Joyce trailed off into a sigh. “The boys aren’t even awake yet. Can I call you when we’re about to head over?”

“Of course. And if there’s _anything_ I can do –”

“I’ll be sure to let you know. Thank you, Karen. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good-bye, Joyce. Take care.”

Joyce carefully hung up the phone and, while the house was still quiet, went back to her room to cover up the bruises on her face.

* * *

It was a quiet car ride to the Wheelers that afternoon. Will still refused to look at her, and Jonathan kept his full attention on Will. When he’d woken up, Joyce had asked Jonathan if he’d prefer to stay somewhere else, with a friend his own age, but he was adamant that he needed to stay wherever Will was, as she had suspected he would be.

Karen greeted them at the door, but Mike was hovering behind her and darted out as soon as he saw Will. Joyce watched as Will stiffened – everything Lonnie said yesterday echoed around her head – and then finally let himself relax, resting his forehead on Mike’s shoulder as Mike hugged him. Joyce and Karen looked on fondly until Jonathan, swaying back and forth, awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Oh, come in, come in,” urged Karen. “Let’s get you boys settled in, and Joyce, I have some tea on, so you should stay a while. Will, you can stay in Mike’s room with him. Jonathan, I wasn’t sure where you’d want to sleep – we can set you up with a sleeping bag with the boys, or with Nancy, or in the basement, or on the La-Z-Boy down here…”

Jonathan didn’t have a vested interest where he slept, as long as Mike was taking care of Will, and he saw how Mike and Nancy imperceptibly stiffened when their rooms were mentioned as options. “I’ll just sleep downstairs on the La-Z-Boy,” he offered. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother at all,” Karen assured him – assured them, as she ushered them all inside.

Will trailed Mike upstairs. This was familiar. This was _safe_. The first time he’d stayed over, they’d slept in the basement in sleeping bags, because Mike had thought it’d be more like camping or an adventure or something, but Will had gotten scared, so from then on, they slept in Mike’s room.

When they got upstairs, Mike sat down on his bed and patted the spot next to him, motioning for Will to sit down next to him. Will obliged. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked as he slung an arm around Will’s shoulder. Will leaned into the touch. “Your mommy said you weren’t feeling well last night, and now your brother’s here and –”

“Nothing,” muttered Will.

Mike turned to frown at him.

“Okay, something.” Will pursed his lips. “But do we have to talk about it now? Can’t we read comics together or something?”

“Yeah, sure!” Mike seemed excited enough by the prospect to put the matter aside, at least for now. “You wanna keep going in that new Batman comic?”

Will smiled. It was funny – he preferred the artwork and Mike preferred the stories, but he was much better at reading than Mike was. When they had started kindergarten, Will could read pretty well since he’d seen Jonathan reading all the time and made him teach him how to do it. Mike had taken the opposite approach, seeing Nancy reading and figuring it was dumb and boring, so he couldn’t read much besides his own name. But when Mike had seen that Will could actually _read_ his comics and not just make up stories based on the pictures, well, he just _had_ to learn himself, didn’t he? He was already so much better than he’d been in August. For the first couple months, Will would have to read everything when they spent time together (not that he minded), but recently Mike had started trying too. It was slow going at first, but Will was patient, and really loved how Mike got into it and did all the different voices.

They got into position under the covers, lying on their stomachs, with the comic book laying propped up against Mike’s pillow. Even though the comic was a little scary, Will thought, there was nowhere he’d rather be than snuggled up under Mike’s blankets, listening to him fumble his way through a tale of international espionage.

By the time Batman had made it to Hungary (in disguise, of course), Mike glanced over at Will only to find him asleep. He felt a little awkward – what was he supposed to do now? It wasn’t _close_ to bedtime – and Mommy hadn’t made him take naps for almost a year now – but then he looked at Will’s face. Sure, he was drooling a little on Mike’s sheets, but he looked the calmest he had since he’d arrived on their doorstep that afternoon. He didn’t want to chance waking Will up by getting out of bed, so instead he scooted closer to Will, slung an arm over him, and closed his eyes, focusing on Will’s heartbeat.

He was in that liminal space between sleep and consciousness when Karen came upstairs to call them down for dinner. He was vaguely aware she’d opened the door, but his eyelids were to heavy to open and his body too warm to move. Before he knew it, she was lightly shaking his shoulder. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she whispered in his ear, “It’s time for dinner. Can you wake Will up for me?”

Mike nodded, and in turn shook Will gently. Will slowly came to, blinking a few times before he remembered where he was. “Did I –”

“Yeah,” said Mike, smiling fondly. “I did too. But it’s time for dinner! Come on, I think Mom was making lasagna today!” _That_ got Will out of bed quickly. Mike knew lasagna was one of his favorites.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Mike realized he still had no idea why the Byers were actually staying the night, and it didn’t seem that Nancy or Daddy did either. Neither Will nor Jonathan seemed particularly interested in broaching the topic, and Mommy didn’t seem to want to bring it up either. Mike could tell something was wrong, but he could wait for Will to be ready to tell him… maybe. He could be patient if he needed to be.

Jonathan caught Will after dinner and pulled him aside for a minute. Mike quirked an eyebrow as they ran up the stairs. “What was that about?”

“He just wanted to make sure I’m doing okay. I told him I am. He brought books to read, so he’ll be fine by himself. He would read all day if he could, I think.”

Mike laughed, then sighed. “Maybe I’ll be able to do that someday.”

“Yeah!” agreed Will. “D’you wanna keep reading Batman?”

Mike wanted to find some way to ask if Will was _really_ alright, but he hadn’t figured out how to say no to Will yet. “Of course. Promise not to fall asleep this time?”

“I promise.” Will blushed. “Maybe if you weren’t so boring…”

Mike chased a giggling Will back to his room, where they resumed their places.

* * *

All too soon, it was time for bed. They’d brushed their teeth (with Karen’s help), changed into pajamas, and Will said good night to his mom over the phone. When Karen came to tuck them in, they scrambled into bed – Will took top bunk, like always. She kissed them both on the forehead. “I know you had a little nap this afternoon, but try and get some sleep, okay, boys?”

Will nodded politely and Mike drawled, “Yes, Mom…”

After she closed the door, they lay in silence for a few minutes. “Hey, Will,” called Mike, “Are you still awake?”

“Yeah,” squeaked Will. His voice sounded foggy.

“…Are you okay?”

Will stifled a sob. “Yeah.”

“…Are you sure?”

“No,” said Will in a small voice.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Will didn’t answer, but slowly climbed down the ladder to lie next to Mike in his bed.

Mike managed to wait for Will to speak first.

“Did – did your mom tell you anything?”

“No, but I can tell something’s up.”

Will sniffed and even though the lights were off, Mike was pretty sure he could see tears rolling down Will’s cheeks.

“So, uh… yesterday we were at Thanksgiving dinner, and everything was fine, but then Daddy saw the drawing you made for me and he got really angry and he and Mommy fought and Jonathan and I hid in his room, and then… Daddy left and didn’t come back. And it’s all my fault. I don’t know what I did wrong, but he got mad at me and now he’s gone and Mommy let him go and –”

By this point, Mike had opened his arms and Will all but threw himself into the embrace. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered into Will’s hair. “You’re the bestest friend ever, and you’re amazing, and –”

“And I was so _scared_ ,” blubbered Will. Mike could feel the front of his pajama shirt getting wet, but he couldn’t care less. “Daddy always tells me to man up and be brave and not cry, but I just can’t and now he’s gone and I don’t know when he’s coming back and it’s all my fault and –”

“Shhh,” whispered Mike, using one hand to stroke Will’s hair. “It’s not your fault. We’re fine. Your daddy makes his own choices. And no matter what happens, I’m gonna still be here, okay?”

Will clutched Mike impossibly closer. “Promise?” It was so soft that Mike felt it more than heard it.

“I promise.”

“Can I – can I stay down here tonight?” Will’s cheeks were burning with shame. If he were strong, he could have fallen asleep all my himself, but he knew he needed Mike with him if he was going to have any chance of sleeping tonight.

Mike snorted, but without malice. “Duh.” He smiled. “In fact, I _demand_ that you stay here and help _me_ fall asleep.”

Will shook his head, a small smile finally cracking through. He burrowed into Mike, and a few minutes later, both boys were fast asleep.

* * *

**Saturday, November 27, 1976**

A bit after noon, Karen pulled up to the Byers’s house. Jonathan rode shotgun and Will rode in the back. Jonathan hopped out on his own, but Will showed no signs of emerging. She walked around and opened his door. His seatbelt was still on. “Do you need help, sweetie?”

Will sighed and released his seatbelt with no issue. “Is Daddy home?” he whispered.

“His car’s not here, so I don’t think so,” Jonathan jumped in.

Will’s face didn’t betray what he thought of that information, but he did finally hop out of the car.

Joyce ushered them all inside and looked profoundly grateful at the three trays of lasagna Karen was carrying in her arms. “They weren’t too much trouble, I hope?” she asked, reaching out to tousle their hair. Jonathan accepted his with a grimace, but Will ducked and scooted past her.

“No trouble at all!” Karen reassured her. “Jonathan just read quietly –” Joyce raised her eyebrow and Jonathan nodded that, yes, it had been by choice – “And Mike and Will seemed to spend most of their time reading comics, like usual. Will’s such a good influence on Mike – he couldn’t read at all before he started school, and he’s just gotten so much better.” Karen flashed a smile at Will, who was still in view. Joyce turned to look at him too, but he took off down the hall. Karen and Joyce both frowned in surprise, and Joyce sighed.

“Like I told you yesterday, I think he blames me, at least in part…”

“Come on, sit down,” Karen said, guiding her to the kitchen. “Let me put these in the refrigerator, and I’ll put on some tea.”

Joyce was glad that at least _one_ person was on her side.

* * *

**Sunday, November 28, 1976**

Will had spent the rest of the day yesterday divided between his room and Castle Byers. He saw the hurt in Mommy’s eyes whenever he happened to glance her way at dinner, but he still didn’t want to talk to her. He knew it was ultimately his fault, but if Mommy hadn’t yelled at him, maybe he’d still be here.

He was just getting ready to head out to Castle Byers again – the sun was out and it was a little warmer than yesterday, so he didn’t think he’d need to wear gloves. He liked drawing outside. Just as he opened his bedroom door, the phone started ringing. He paused, waiting, listening as Joyce picked up.

“Hello?”

“So _now_ you call, two days later?” It was Daddy, then. He held his breath.

“Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes. “And are you – Well, how are things going to change moving forwards?”

“What do I _mean_? You know what the hell I mean, Lonnie!”

“Well, if that’s the attitude you’re going to take, I see no reason for you to come back. Consider yourself unwelcome!” She slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

Will slunk back into his room, filled with emotions he didn’t have names for. Screaming into his pillow helped a little, but not very much. …Not as much as Mike, who’d gotten him in this whole mess in the first place. He shook his head angrily. It wasn’t Mike’s fault, it was _his_ , for being too weak, for needing Mike too much and not liking sports and hunting and whatever else Daddy needed him to do. He knew he couldn’t deny himself Mike given the opportunity, so he’d just have to – avoid him. Easy enough, right?

He set out for Castle Byers with a renewed sense of resolve.

* * *

**Monday, November 29, 1976**

Mike frowned as he entered Mrs. Palmer’s classroom Monday morning. Will was usually early because his mommy needed to drop him off before work. There were days she had off, when Will would arrive just on time from the kindergarten bus, but Will usually told him about those ahead of time… but maybe things were weird now because of Will’s daddy being gone. And Mike hadn’t heard from Will since the sleepover anyways. He called so often that Mommy had banned him from using the phone, but either no one picked up or Mrs. Byers said he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t come to the phone. Which, if Will was sick, that happens – but why couldn’t Will have told him that? He sat at the art table, kicking the table legs, not sure what to do with himself while he waited for Will to get there.

Finally, the bell rang, and they got in a circle and said the pledge, and the whole time Mike was bouncing up and down because Will wasn’t here and Will was _always_ here, even if he was sick. He didn’t have anyone to sit next to in the circle or be his puzzle partner or –

“Mike? Michael?” He slowly registered that Mrs. Palmer was talking to him. He looked up at her. “Can you share something you did this weekend?”

“Where’s Will?” he asked.

“Did you do something with Will this weekend?” she asked, trying to redirect.

“WHERE’S WILL?” he screamed as loud as a five-year-old could.

“Michael!” Mrs. Palmer was using her teacher voice now. “Can you calm down on your own, or do you need to go to time out?”

“I need you to tell me where Will is!” His breaths were coming faster and faster, and he could feel the tears boiling up behind his eyes.

“Okay. Go sit in the corner and we’ll talk when circle time is over.” Mrs. Palmer looked angry, but Mike didn’t care. He stomped over to the corner as everyone started whispering behind him. He didn’t _care_ what anyone else thought. He just needed to know where Will was. Was he sleeping? Was he sick? Did he miss the bus? Did his mommy get a flat tire? Did his daddy come back and hurt him?

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice Mrs. Palmer walking over until she put a hand on his shoulder. “Michael,” she said in a calm voice, “Mike. How are you feeling?”

“Where’s Will?” he asked.

Mrs. Palmer sighed. “His mother called the office this morning and said that he’d be home sick today. But how are _you_ feeling, Mike?”

“Angry! And… lonely, I guess. It doesn’t feel right being here without Will.”

“I can imagine. Do you think you might feel a little bit scared too?”

“Scared?” Mike wrinkled his nose. “Scared of what?”

“Of whether Will’s okay? Of being at school without your friend? That can be a really scary thing.”

Mike sniffed. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I’m a little scared.”

“It’s okay. That’s a normal thing to feel in a new situation. But Will will be back soon, I’m sure. Do you think you’ll be okay to rejoin the class now?”

Mike thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled. “I’ve gotta be, right?”

“Well, we could bring you down to the nurse’s office and have you sent home.”

Mike shook his head. He was a big boy. “I’ll be okay.”

Mrs. Palmer watched him head back to rejoin his classmates. She’d watched their friendship evolve over the past few months and had actively encouraged it – she saw how Will pushed Mike to do better and how Will flourished when Mike was around. She knew Will was shy and how much he needed Mike, but she hadn’t realized today how much that need ran both ways.

* * *

Mike made it through the rest of the day without any more incidents, but kept noticing Will’s absence – no one to share his snack with, no one to play at recess with, and now no one to talk with as they lined up at the end of the day, no one to make fun of him as he struggled to get his coat on. He saw Mrs. Palmer coming over and sighed.

“Michael, your mother’s picking you up today, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m just going to chat with her a little bit about how today went, okay?”

Mike nodded, but looked down at the floor. Mrs. Palmer always walked them out to the buses and pick-up line, but if she talked to anyone, it was usually the troublemakers’ parents. He wasn’t a troublemaker. He was _fine_. …He would be fine.

He put himself at the end of the line and shuffled his feet, but that only delayed the inevitable. And Nancy was already in the car. Great. Mrs. Palmer tapped the window as Mike got in the back seat.

“Mrs. Palmer, hello! How can I help you?”

“I just wanted to let you know that Mike had a bit of a rough start to the day. Will was out sick, and Mike – took a little bit to adjust. But he pulled himself together, and I’m really proud of him.” She smiled back at him. He continued to sulk.

“Well, thank you for letting me know. We know Will’s had a bit of a rough weekend, so I’ll make sure to talk with Mike about things tonight.” Mike sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to “talk about things”. He just needed to see Will, and then everything would be better. It had to be.

* * *

**Tuesday, November 30, 1976**

Mike smiled to himself, as his mommy drove him out of town after school. Sure, Will hadn’t answered his call yesterday (he only had the chance to try once, when Mommy was in the bathroom and before Daddy got home) and he wasn’t in school _again_ today, but now Mike had a plan. And it was working! Mrs. Palmer had believed him when he told her Will had asked him to bring home the work he had missed and, well, Mommy couldn’t really say no when he got in the car holding a packet of work with Will's name on it that Mrs. Palmer had asked him to deliver.

So now they were on their way to the Byers’, and Mike knew he should be happy he was finally going to see his best friend again – and he was – but he was a little scared too. And that was silly. Will wasn’t scary.

Before he knew it, they’d pulled up the Byers’ driveway, and then Mommy was knocking on the front door, and then Mrs. Byers answered the door, her eyes darting around, dark circles underneath.

She brightened up when she saw who it was, though. “Oh, Karen, Mike, Nancy, come in, come in!”

They gravitated to the kitchen to talk about grown-up things, and Nancy tagged along, but Mike was _so_ close and he wasn’t going to get sidetracked now. “I have all the work Will missed!” he interjected, holding it up. “Can I go give it to him?”

A shadow crossed Mrs. Byers’s face. “Will’s – not feeling well, sweetie. Why don’t you give that to me, and I can give it to him later?” She reached out to take the packet from him.

“No!” shouted Mike, snatching it back. “I mean, uh, there are things I need to explain and show him how to do. I’m just gonna –” and he took off down the hall.

“Michael!” called Karen, but Joyce put a hand on her arm.

“Will’s not – physically sick. He’s just been staying in his room all day and only comes out for meals and won’t talk to anyone. Maybe this is what he needs.”

* * *

Mike knocked three times on Will’s bedroom door.

“Go ‘way,” Will croaked.

“It’s Mike!”

Silence.

“Can I come in?”

“Go ‘way, Mike.”

Mike frowned. That hurt. But he’d come too far to just walk away now. “I’m coming in, Will.”

He slowly opened the door. Will was still in his pajamas. He was lying facedown on top of his blankets, his feet by his pillows and his head near the foot of the bed, resting his forehead on his forearms.

Mike sat down gently on the bed. “Will?”

Will grunted.

Mike reached out a hand and rested it on his shoulder. Will jerked away. “Don’t touch me!” He finally lifted his head up and glared at Mike. Mike recoiled, but Will didn’t look angry. He looked – scared.

“Will, what’s wrong?”

Will buried his head again. “Nothing.”

“You’re my best friend. You can tell me anything.” Mike frowned. Will’s body had started shaking. Then he realized – Will was crying.

“How?” came his muffled, tear-choked voice.

“How what?” Now Mike was even more confused.

“I don’t deserve to be your friend. I’m no good at sports or being brave or being normal and – Maybe you should find some new friends, Mike.”

Mike sat in stupefied silence for a moment. There were so many things wrong with that, he didn’t know where to begin. So instead, he flung the packet on the floor and jumped on top of Will, smothering him in a tackle-hug.

Will twisted and thrashed violently, trying to get away, but Mike was bigger and taller and stronger and everywhere at once and he couldn’t escape, and then it was too late, just like he’d been terrified of. Being held by Mike felt too good, too warm, too safe. And even though every voice in his head was screaming how _wrong_ this was, he found he simply couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He was exhausted. He hadn’t been sleeping or eating well. And if needing this made him weak, well, guess what – he already knew he was weak.

“Shhh,” Mike whispered into his hair, and shit – how did Mike know all of his weak points. He shivered and felt his body relax against his will as his crying redoubled. “I’m right here, Will. Do you wanna talk?”

Will shook his head vigorously.

“Okay, then I guess you can listen and I’ll talk.” Will’s eyes widened. No. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Mike was supposed to realize he was worthless and leave and then, maybe – just maybe – Daddy would come back again.

“You’re my best friend, Will,” Mike continued. “The last few days have been really bad. I didn’t know where you were, and I didn’t have anyone to do projects with, or draw cool pictures with, or help me with the big words, and I missed you a lot, and I just want to make you feel all better but I don’t know how.”

“You can’t,” Will choked out.

Mike shrugged, even as he remained sprawled on top of Will. “But I can try!”

And Will knew at that moment that even though he _wasn’t_ okay, and might not be okay for a long time, he _would_ be okay, eventually. Mike wasn’t going anywhere. Mike wouldn’t just leave. He could trust Mike. He slowly lifted his head up as best he could and silently communicated with Mike so they both rolled over on their sides, and Will closed his eyes as he let himself be held and sobbed into Mike’s chest. This felt too good. It couldn’t be wrong.

Too soon – far too soon – Karen’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Michael, it’s time to go!” Will just burrowed closer and Mike’s hands tangled in his hair.

“Come to school tomorrow?” Mike whispered. “And talk to your mommy? I think she’s worried about you.”

Will nodded, breathing in Mike’s scent. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mike,” he whispered.

He still wished he didn’t feel quite so alone when Mike unwrapped his arms from around him, but he didn’t let himself feel guilty when he smiled as watched Mike slip out of the room. He _could_ be okay. He _would_ be okay, thanks to Mike.


End file.
